which he lived. And, though his conscience reproached him, he felt a twinge of envy.
"All that I need for this is the one essential thing," said he,—"the desire for power. I had it, but it is gone."
"Excuse me; I don't believe you," said Serpukhovskoï, smiling.
"No, it is true, true—now—to be frank with you," persisted Vronsky.
"Yes, true now,—that is another affair; this now will not last forever."
"Maybe."
"You say maybe; and I tell you certainly not," continued Serpukhovskoï, as if he divined his thought "And this is why I wanted to see you. You acted as you felt was necessary. I understand that; but it is not necessary for you to stick to it.[1] All I ask of you is carte blanche for the future. I am not your patron .... and yet why should I not take you under my protection? Have you not often done as much for me? I hope that our friendship stands above that. There!" said he, smiling at him tenderly, like a woman. "Give me carte blanche. Come out of your regiment, and I will help you along so that it won't be known."
"But understand that I want nothing," said Vronsky, "except that all should be as it has been."
Serpukhovskoï arose, and stood facing him.
"You say that all must be as it has been. I understand what you mean; but listen to me. We are of the same age; maybe you have known more women than I." His smile and his gesture told Vronsky to have no fear that he would not touch gently and delicately on the tender spot. "But I am married; and, believe me, as some one or other wrote, he who knows only his wife, and loves her, understands all women better than if he had known a thousand."
"We're coming directly," cried Vronsky to an officer who looked into the room and said he was sent by the regimental commander.
- ↑ Perseverirovat.
